


Abomination Number 1

by SansThePacifist



Series: Undertale Stories [10]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anti-Void, Don't copy to another site, Geno calls the scarf papyrus duing aftertale, Hypocrisy, I actually kinda wanted this to be longer but it wrapped up all on its own, I really wanted to go the FGOD route with this but decided to be as close to his story as possible, Ink gets like. The SHORTEST scene at the very very end, Insanity, Isolation, Loneliness, Losing Memories, No beta-read we die like fools, Sort of depressing thoughts, The Anti-Void, Theres also a bit of a headcanon in this, This only took two days, Transforming, Very sudden and very quick changes in mood, Y'all thought i was DONE with undertale? Lol NOPE, an excessive amount of blank space, and the soul got split so that Geno has only a tenth, brief mention of gore, brief mentions of violence, but not the happy kind?, dont worry it surprised me too, either way he has basically no control over his emotions, error is a hypocrite, feel free to tell me if there are any mistakes though, geno turning into error, go for it my dudes, he sortve loses it after like. 5 paragraphs, i LIVE for validation and opinions, i only used it around 3 times but its still there, mood swings?, relearning, since sans has 1 HP normally, so he calls the scarf papyrus during this, tell me if you feel it was ooc, tell me if you love it, tell me waht you do and dont like, use of zalgo text, voices, whump?, wouldnt it make sense for geno to have 0.1 HP and sans 0.9 HP?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22290256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansThePacifist/pseuds/SansThePacifist
Summary: He walked for an eternity, wondering if this was his limbo, his hell. His damnation for messing with something he knew he shouldn't have.Oh, but he was so curious.He just had to know. He had to know if he had any powers like Frisk, had to know if he could remove his DETERMINATION, had to know if he could do anything, anything that could prove he was stong- strong enough to fend for himself, strong enough that he wasn't treated like a broken cup.Hehadto know.He should've listened to Sans.(Or, for the people that don't read the tags: My take on how Geno would have slowly lost himself and became Error.)
Series: Undertale Stories [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/848679
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Abomination Number 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorta based on this:
> 
> https://loverofpiggies.tumblr.com/post/179920202990/ask-error-my-ideas-on-how-it-would-have
> 
> Geno & Error belong to @loverofpiggies  
> Ink belongs to @myebi / @comyet

There is nothing for miles upon miles upon miles upon miles upon- 

He doesn't think there is anything else there.

Just him. 

Just him, with his broken soul, his pathetic 0.1 hp, and Papyrus' scarf.

Just him and a never ending, blank canvas. 

What he wouldn't do for even a splash of color, a rose petal, a _pixel._

He walked for an eternity, wondering if this was his limbo, his hell. His damnation for messing with something he knew he shouldn't have. 

Oh, but he was _so curious._

He just had to know. He had to know if he had any powers like Frisk, had to know if he could remove his DETERMINATION, had to know if he could do anything, anything that could prove he was stong- strong enough to fend for himself, strong enough that he wasn't treated like a broken cup.

He **had** to know.

He should've listened to Sans.

He started yelling at some point, yelling until his voice was raw and broken, until it sounded more like the static from a broken TV than a begging skeleton, until his yells and pleads turned into _screams._

He screams and screams and screams.

The emptiness screams back.

He realizes that- since white was the complete absence of light, of color- this place was absolutely empty. Not even a particle of dirt. Just him.

Just him.

Just h̴̷i̶̧͢m̨̡͞.̛͏͟

At some point, his little... pixels (if that's what they were called? He never chose a name for them) come back. They distort his appearance in a way that almost never happened before, changing the colors of his bones. 

He was never so happy to see colors before, even if it was because the tips of his fingers turned a strange yellow.

And then he starts laughing. 

He couldn't stop, even when he wanted, even when The Voices stopped screaming to, instead, as questions. 

He laughs until can't move anymore, until he lays on the floor (was it even a floor?) and feels nothing.

He feels nothing until a Voice screams at him, calling him weak and a coward and stupid, so many different- _cruel-_ things that--

He loses himself to a fit of rage. 

He isn't thinking when he throws Papyrus away and later, after spending who knows how long, searching and searching and _searching,_ he cries.

He cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and…

~~The Voices say something about the color blue and his sobs turn into laughter because that's so stupid, there is no blue here. Just white.~~

~~**Just him.** ~~

Papyrus was gone, Papyrus had vanished.

He was alone again.

Alone, alone, alone, alone, alone--

He really, really, **really** should have listened to Sans.

Curiosity killed the cat.

~~Satisfaction tore it open until there was nothing left but a bloody, broken husk.~~

He doesn't quite remember how he got there.

He just... He thinks it had something to do with a flash of light and a scream but--

He looks down just in time to see a flicker of a word, hovering over his hand as it- as it- as it..?

_Glitched._

Right.

He has nothing else to do but listen to the voices, scream, laugh, hurt himself, cry, and walk for hours on end; of course he decides to do something different, watch himself glitch.

ERROR, that's what is said- all caps. 

_ERROR._

He laughed because it was so funny, so so funny. He was sure that whatever brought him here was a mistake- an error- and now... And now the glitches were calling him one, hovering over different parts for a split second as he glitched and-

Was his shirt always red?

He should have listened to-... 

To...

To...?

To who?

To _what?_

The Voices say plenty of things, have different personalities, different volumes.

The loudest voice he heard sounded like someone had radio on max volume _right beside him._

It startled him so much that the glitches got frantic and the ERROR's clustered together and--

He blinked and The Voices were laughing.

They said that he crashed just like a program on a computer (that confused him a little, but he had a vague recollection of what those were) and a window popped up to tell the progress of when the "reboot" would be finished properly.

He scowled and went to tug up _something_ to cover his mouth only to find air.

He doesn't remember there being anything around his neck, so why would he...?

The Voices scramble to answer his questions all at once (or to yell at him) and he finds himself covering where his ears would be and _begging._

Begging for silence.

Begging for freedom.

Begging for... Someone?

He cries again, wailing with his so terribly broken voice, and goes to claw at his eyes but--

There was something wrong with his right eye socket. It was supposed to... Feel different? 

Yeah. It was supposed to be sort of-... Sort of bumpy but malleable. Instead, it was smooth and hard, just like his other eye socket.

He trails his fingers around his eyes and realizes it was smaller, too. 

His eye sockets were different sizes.

With that discovery, he accidently tugs down a little too quick and pulls something from his eyes (his cheeks?) that makes him tingle.

He freezes for a moment, worried at the sudden silence of The Voices and the very real possibility that he might have just really hurt himself, before pulling his hands out further and then _staring._

Strings.

Blue, blue strings.

The bluest blue he had seen in who knows how long.

He cries.

The Voices **_boom._ **

They ask question upon question upon question, all of which he didn't have an answer to. They're loud and constant, harassing him for answers that he doesn't have the time to even think of.

He tries to ignore the ever growing loudness, doing everything to stop it from overwhelming him.

Nothing helps.

He takes a shuddering breath. In, out. In, out. Just like that Voice from before instructed. In, out. In- 

They got louder.

" **ShUt uP!** " He huffs and puffs, savoring the moment of silence that descended after his outburst, before straightening. " **I cAN't aNSwEr eVerYONe at OnCE!** "

Once They finally got some sort of order established, The Voices were quite helpful. Most didn't even ask anything, instead stating different facts. A bit irritating, but he'd let it pass. 

A few things randomly appear- knitting needles, food, a bunch of pillows- which confused the hell out of him but only made The Voices cheer and murmur different things in Their excitement, forgetting the order They had.

...were They real? He thought that since They were disembodied voices, he was just going insane. Still, the taste of chocolate was strangely nostalgic and the texture of the pillows? So much better- _different-_ than the clothes on his back.

He runs his fingers over the different pillows in awe.

He has to hold the wrappers close to his face just to read them- The Voices seemed surprised at that- and it makes him feel dumb when he doesn't understand what something is, so he stops trying very much. Still, he organizes them the best he could- shape, color, whatever- and makes an area just for himself.

He lays down on the pillows and feels content for the first time in ages.

They ask what his strings could do and a few other Voices mentions methods that might help. 

He tries, tries, tries, and tries to use the strings how They mentioned. He wants them to move or whatever but they just... Won't.

It's nothing like the bone magic he vaguely remembers. 

~~He wonders if he can even use said bones anymore but decides to focus on the strings _first._ ~~

A Voice suggests that maybe his strings have something to do with puppets.

He learns that he has to move his hand, instead of using his mind, to control the strings.

He thinks it was pretty obvious, that he should've thought of it sooner. The Voices agree and call him an idiot.

He heard from someone, somewhere, that laughter was a medicine. They were _wrong._

His laughter didn't fix anything; his voice was still an abomination, his eye socket was still smaller than the other, his bones weren't the right color, his memory was shards of something he doubted he could ever put together again, and he was still- **_still-_ ** in a place where everything stayed the same and he couldn't escape.

When he finally relaxed, a Voice tried to teach him how to control the targets. They called him a puppeteer and he found it so funny- _Him_ the one pulling the strings! **_Hah-_ ** that he fell into another fit of hysterical laughter.

Him, _him._

Him, **_the one in cò̷̸̡n͟͝t̸r̸͢͠ò̸͘͝l̴̢--_ **

A bunch of bundles of yarn falls from the sky, scattering across the plane of emptiness, moving a few pillows and knocking over the stack of candies. His irritation rises as he spends the time fixing everything.

A Voice sheepishly apologizes while a few others laugh. 

For some reason, he thinks of someone with a light blue sweater and finds himself unable to kindle the flames of fury. 

Either way, he gathers the bundles and asks what he's supposed to do with them.

The Voices are enthusiastic to teach him how to knit.

He takes to knitting like a fish to water.

The voices teach him different patterns and designs, how to finish of a project. He has to say that turtlenecks are his favorites to make, though scarves are relaxing. 

"You know," a Voice starts, "I've never seen you check your pockets. What do you have in them, if anything?" He pauses, frowning slightly. 

They're right, he hasn't checked his pockets. He forgot they were there, somehow. What could have been in them? 

He digs through and finds a crumpled sheet of colors and something red and smooth. Glasses, The Voices call them. They get put over his eye sockets.

He blinks at the sudden change of _everything._ There are sharper edges to things and... He looks down at the sheet of colors and sees a picture.

There, five figures smile at him.

Striped sweater, red scarf, golden beard, purple dress, black shorts.

He can't remember their names or how a picture of them ended up in his pocket. He doesn't know them, doesn't care, doesn't want them. 

He doesn't understand the bitter sadness that bubbles in his chest.

~~**_Why can't he stop crying?_ ** ~~

He finds himself unable to tear it up so he hides it in his pocket instead and tries to forget it was ever there.

It works.

Even knitting gets boring. 

He finds himself wishing and wishing to please get out.

The voices offer suggestions.

They suggest putting magic in his eyes. It sounded ridiculous, but he went with everything else so why not.

His eyes glowed- according to a very surprised voice- as everything turned into ones and zeros.

What... the hell?

He has a strange, innate understanding of it. 

It tells him everything but he can't- he just-

He crashes.

He comes back to a normal looking whatever-he's-in and decides that diving headfirst into whatever that was overwhelmed him.

He would have to start doing it in small increments, if ever. 

" **WhERe Am i?** " The glitch finally asks. 

  
  


The Voices go quiet but, after a while, they simultaneously answer: "The anti-void."

...Alright. Creepy, but alright.

" **wHo aM I?** "

  
  
  


Silence.

  
  
  


Complete and utter silence.

  
  
  


" **WhO...?** "

  
  
  
  


Nothing.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


" **ErROr,** " He decides. " **i'M eRRor.** " 

The Voices say that fits him.

The code- he learns its code after mentioning it to The Voices- doesn't really help him escape, but does tell him a lot about himself.

He's DETERMINED, has an unbreakable fragment of a soul, and got trapped in the anti-void because of his curiosity.

That was it.

How terribly _bland._

it takes a long, long, long time before something shifts in the air. He sees stars and colors, a strange planet, magic.

It closes with a strange sound before he could touch it.

The portals, as The Voices called them, became easier to make after that.

The first one he manages to stumble through is different from any of the others he's seen. It's covered in a strange powder (snow?) and the figures that showed most were literal phantoms.

They weren't supposed to be phantoms. 

They weren't supposed to be different.

They were meant to be perfect-

Not like-

Not like... **_That!_ **

He laughs and pulls on his strings and-

He ignores how his glasses fall.

He ignores The Voices mixed opinions.

He ignores his blurry vision and the fear in the voices of such **_a͈̳͝b̡͔̱̺̦͖ǫ͎͇m̛̲͉̤͖̯̪̭͎͝ị̻̹̲̝͚̞͈͢͞n͉̟̘̙͢͝a̴̢̨̪̘͚̫t͏̥͚̭̰̮̪̩͢ͅi̭͉̮ơ̷͇̜͖̟̝̪̜̹͎n̸͖͎͜s̵̘̝̩̪._ **

  
  


Dirty, _dirty_ **glitches** in the code.

  
  


Error tears them to pieces, to a fine dusty powder, and **_laughs._ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Stop!" Someone shouts, "Why are you doing this?"

He tilts his head, insane smile only spreading.

" **wHY, iSN't IT obViOUs? I'M takING oUt thE _TraSh._** "

"I see…" They pull the giant brush off their back. "Well, I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but…"

**Author's Note:**

> I've been binge reading a bunch of Error!sans fics this last week or so and I finally convinced myself to write Geno turning into our favorite little glitch, Error.


End file.
